What about tommorow ?
by DisneyTrash
Summary: Pirate AU ! OS Clexa ! Clarke is gone... Lexa will do anything to bring her back !


**Hello everyone ! So this is a bit special to me because I'm actually French, I wrote and published this os in French under the name "Et demain ?" but yesterday was my 22nd birthday and so my beta decided to surprise me by traducing this os ! So I'm very happy that other people can read this and thank you so much to my beta ! I hope you like it and have a nice moment ! Bye !**

 **What about tomorrow?**

Two hooded figures walked the streets of London. Leaving behind shops and inns, they made for the depths of the city, where everything forbidden came to life after nightfall. They didn't care about others, about their stares or the way they pointed at them. These two figures knew what they embodied. And they were not ashamed of it.

Why would they be? The world was what it was. Humans had, of course, evolved trough time, but some things never changed. Always there was war. Injustice. Those who were strong and those who were weak. The world praised itself on straight morals and ethics. Sometimes under God's glory, sometimes under the King's. No matter. Everyone knew. The honest. The fair. Those people didn't exist anymore. Or they stayed hidden, binding their time. Society welcomed them to blame them when a problem arose. Either they were saviours or they were outdated, a thing of the past. Everyone was capable of living in this world full of pretence, of corruption, of ambition. But few, so few were happy in it. That's why a lot of them looked for this "something else", this difference that allowed human beings to bear their everyday life. Scholars found the answer in knowledge hoping to achieve wisdom. Artists created Beauty to please those who didn't understand them. The weakest simply observed, sometimes they tried to be more, to take their chances. Those who could be called pure of heart believed in love as the ultimate saving grace.

Then, there were the two figures. These same people who went deeper into the darkness without fear of yielding to it. They played with the shadows as if they were their own. Silently, without any real aim. After all, they were part of us. And so why would anyone get rid of them? These people lived under a code. Not a code of ethics or a moral one because they knew these words tied man to what he was not: pure. These figures thought that everyone had to choose their own destiny and assume deep in their heart their strength and weakness. Being human meant being free. And you had to win this freedom. So they had written a code. For every ship, for every island; a code that united them under the same banner. This code was about surviving, so they could continue to exist. They had been hunted, tortured, executed because they were different. They were called outlaws, pirates. They took from others what they needed, and for that they had been punished.

Pirates… the people who wanted to be free. Free from society, from religion, from the world. To be one with the sea and with the wind. To live passionately without the restraints of institutions created by mankind. A code only to survive together. They were a strong people. Numerous. Dangerous. But linked by loyalty, history and blood. The love for an ideal. They had been hated because they were savages and violent; now they were respected. Things had changed. Passerbies were still afraid and disgusted sometimes but nowadays they knew a pirate wasn't a beast thirsty for gold, sex and everything sinful. Now a pirate had a family, a home, he worked, traded, farmed… he was part of a people.

Were there still savages and murderers? Yes, and for that matter, maybe it was the reason why the name "pirate" had remained. As if History could not free itself from what had been in spite of what currently was. But things were changing. Thanks to a present from the sea. A soul had been born, a soul offered by the gods, by spirits or by the devil. An Immortal had appeared. He had created the code then he had predicted who would replace him. So that the next Immortal be recognized. So that the code could continue to exist. History had seen four immortals. During 255 years the code settled and anchored itself in pirates, in those who wanted to be or those born to become ones. The Immortal would never cease coming back to life. And times would keep changing.

The two figures had arrived in front of a three-story establishment. A few steps from the door, a single street lamp whose candle still burned brightly illuminated them. Their shadows danced against the wall, one taller than the other. One figure moved toward the door and knocked two times leaving three seconds between each knock. The other waited behind, standing straight. Even though the latter's face stayed hidden by a hood, they seemed quite young. The door opened.

Before their eyes appeared a small hallway leading to three doors, a set of stairs and, at the far end, silk curtains. The two figures silently took everything in: paths, people, furniture, nothing escaped their keen observation. The woman who had opened the door headed toward the curtains. Orders had been given; she asked no questions for their arrival was expected. The curtains had been pulled open revealing a brand new world to the two strangers. Only twenty people or so, all busy doing their own thing, occupied the large room. Be it in width or height, everything seemed overly big and shiny. A suspended lamp where dozens of candles were burning brightly illuminated the centre of the room giving it a warm atmosphere. But as soon as their sight landed on the corners or on the back of the room, darkness reclaimed its place and everything else became muffled sounds and fuzzy shapes. Tables, a piano, a bar, a stage… here were the principal elements, which formed the heart of this building. Over their heads, the two figures could see the first floor with its series of double-wing doors. People came and went constantly. Dizzying. Hardly anyone paid attention to the newcomers; only a man surrounded by two women waved them to come closer.

The smaller figure stepped forward first, then she took of her cloak and sat down opposite him. Her companion positioned herself at her right, arms crossed. The few people who dared observe the scene were extremely surprised, for the person who had been concealed by the coat was in fact Lexa, Heda of the Twelve Islands. For those who weren't pirates, the story of the Immortal was a tale hard to believe. Even those who knew about this people, who traded with them on occasions, doubted this legend was nothing more than that. But the woman seating at this very table had become, in three years, a legend of her own. How could anyone imagine that a mere child be not only the new Immortal but also the girl who reunited the twelve islands, leaded her people through three wars and was recognized by the Crown? Nowadays, pirates were part of a community instead of the criminals they had once been considered to be. At the moment, the question was: what was the woman nicknamed Commander doing here, in London, and more than that, what was she doing in the most famous whorehouse of the capital?

The man looked at the young woman with longing in his eyes. She was beautiful. He had caught sight of her only once before, during the Frozen Water battle. He remembered the blood, the black paint running down her face. And also, her cries, her twin blades that went mercilessly through her enemies. He knew why she was here today, after a year of silence. She was coming to get her. The blonde woman. The one who, one year before, had come knocking at his door, offering herself, body and soul, to the customers. At first, he had tried to understand; very few people knew what had happened at the Frozen Water battle. The man remembered the pirate vessels surrounding the navy fleet. Three captains, three vessels going on a hunt. These soldiers had gone against the Queen's authority and captured hundreds of pirates. A lot of them were women or young warriors. They had been many demands, first of a political nature but they became more and more personal as time went by, like exchanging a young pirate against a woman, etc. During three months, these three captains had hidden in the Litthra, the cliffs of hell where lots of ships treaded without ever coming back, except for them. Over three years, they had devised a plan, with paths they could take.

So, for three months the leader of the Twelve Islands had been incapable of saving his people. The man, now sitting here, had been a cook on one of the war ships. He didn't care who employed him and for what reason as long as he was paid. His own father, who was running the most famous brothel in London, had sold him; it was more accurate to say he had been offered as payment of damages to one of the captains. The man also knew the war had taken a bad turn when one of the captains had attacked a fishing village. Its inhabitants hadn't been pirates. The man remembered when the eight women and three children had to come on board. They had been terrified but stayed dignified. The common rule on the three ships was simple: when a prisoner arrives, another one must go. Thus, a lot of fights happened. Most of the time they were unfair but the captains did not care because for them, pirates were nobodies, dogs even. The most ambitious one wanted a harem and slaves, wanted to establish his authority on inferior beings.

The man in the brothel wasn't as cruel as them. He had understood very early that he had to escape and save his skin before the Crown, or worst the Commander, found them. So he had, the night the battle happened. The three captains had been caught unaware. And fast, what had been a war based on strategy between assaults and cannon-shots became a hostage-taking situation. A shot fired equalled a cut head. The man had left when one of the captains had asked to see the Commander in private. No one knew what had happened then. The facts were the young woman had retrieved all the pirates and sounded the retreat. The three captains and their crews had been found dead. The man hadn't wanted to know more for fear of being hunted down.

Until the day she came to him. A bit younger than the Commander, she had been by her side during the battle. The man had seen her encourage the soldiers, pistol in hands. But the woman who had arrived at his doorstep was but the shadow of her previous self. The man saw in her a tortured soul, a haunted expression, a shattered body. He didn't know how she had found him, and maybe she did not even remember who he was. But he needed labour and she was a very beautiful woman. And she stood there, offering herself. His house had rules, both for workers and patrons. The man wasn't cruel. That's why he had tried talking to the young woman but he had realized very soon: she wanted to suffer. So he let her go down the path of self-destruction. Who was he to judge or to save her? When his spies had informed him that the one called Heda had landed in London, the man had prepared, he had ordered the young woman to stay in her room until he called her again. To protect her or out of pride, he couldn't tell.

"My name is Lexa. I am Heda of the pirates' Twelve Islands. I have come here because I am looking for a soul who is very dear to me. It took me quite some time to find her but after a year of sailing I finally have. I know she lives in your abode. The only reason you are still alive despite the life you gave her is that I do not know what her feelings towards you are. But know this, no matter how many hours it takes and no matter how, Clarke will leave with me this very night."

The man breathed deeply trying to lessen his shivering. The young woman's gaze was terrifying. Two orbs circled with black, a green fire, which pierced everything it set upon. The man could feel her hatred. Undoubtedly, he didn't deserve to be considered human in her eyes. He swallowed with difficulty. He did not want to die. But could he use the blonde girl to gain some money? Or a debt? The man doubted it. He was already seeing the Commander's right hand clenching into a fist.

"The young girl…"

"Clarke."

"Clarke. She chose to present herself here. She chose to work for me and I…"

"Do I need to repeat myself? I want to see her now. The only explanations I want to hear, I want them coming from her mouth. And according to what she tells me, you'll get to live… or not."

"And If I refuse."

"I saw you had two guards, one on the upper floor and one in the room on the piano's right. You hired them to deal with the patrons, maybe even the girls, who cause trouble. But, and I hope for your sake I am not wrong, I believe you are intelligent enough to know my reputation and consequently my abilities to kill a man. These fake soldiers you hire will die if you don't tell me where Clarke's room is."

"I…"

"No, in fact, all the people in this room will die. I am, I admit, a bit tired from my journey and quite impatient to find the one… I am really trying not to give in to plucking your eyes from their sockets because, see you despicable excuse for a man, you grow richer while others are being raped and humiliated on a daily basis."

"How dare you! This is a respectable establishment! I look after the wellbeing of my employees!"

"You're not the one behind these doors."

"At the least inappropriate gesture, and if the girls don't accept them, I give the men coming here a kick in the butt and order them to leave. No matter if they're the richest noble in the city. I may not be a good man but I have never been cruel."

"No, you're only a coward."

"It takes all sorts to make a world… Heda. But so be it, Clarke is in the room at the far end on the first floor. I asked her no to leave it."

"Why?"

"I did not know precisely what you wanted from her. But I am curious. If she refuses to follow you…"

"This is not an option."

"But…"

"She can hate me all she wants, she can try to kill me, she can destroy everything I am, but as long as I live I will never allow you to treat her body like this. I know why she chose to go on this path. Her life is her own. But there are people outside of London…"

"She told me she had no family."

"It was a lie. Whatever the matter, no one must disturb us. Am I clear?"

"Yes Commander."

Lexa stood up and walked, very briskly, towards the stairs. The more she got closer to the door, the more her heartbeat beat wildly in her chest. She was scared, but at the same time, the excitement made her blood boil. She was barely aware of Indra following two steps behind. Lexa had waited for so long. First, the Commander had discussed things at length with the other Island leaders; some of them were quite disappointed with her behaviour. She had been challenged by some people who were supposed to be her partners, friends even. She had needed three weeks to recover from her injuries. After that, everything that had to be done was of a political kind, putting things back together and making sure that everything stayed that way before leaving. Then with a small crew, her most loyal warrior, and Clarke's best friends, Lexa had set sail. Finding a woman who passed herself off as dead was no easy task. One whole year. Lexa had thought she would become mad, dreaming sometimes of finding Clarke's lifeless body in the depths of an alley or floating on the ocean water. To her surprise, Octavia was the one who had helped her overcoming her anxieties. An outsider would have been astonished as to how she had done that, that is to say long sparring sessions. Concentrating on the enemy, on her swords, the sound of her breathing, her surroundings… Yes, Octavia had helped her. Thus, Lexa had not given up. For those who had come with her despite her betrayal, she had to find Clarke. She was getting closer to the door. Lexa breathed in deeply, preparing herself for the worst and above all for a very long night of heated discussion. But she would not leave without her. Never again. Lexa knocked thrice.

"Yes? The door is open."

Lexa had imagined hearing that voice a million times; it always brought tears to her eyes. The voice coming from the other side seemed deeper than before to her. The young woman opened the door gently and quickly closed it behind her. Clarke stood a few steps from her, her back to Lexa and arranging some clothes on a chest. Wearing a spring green thin linen dress, her hair coiffed in a Roman style, she was magnificent. She still had curves, even if they seemed less pronounced. Lexa observed silently, she had found her, finally.

"You are the most silent client I have ever had. They usually still start with a 'good evening' or 'sorry to disturb you'. Which is quite stupid, if you ask me. Is Ethan sending you? I am sorry, he asked me…"

"Clarke."

Silence fell upon the room. Lexa had recently learnt the value of silence, and understood it all to well in that moment. How could one bring themselves to break the silence when one is so afraid of what comes next? Lexa saw her former ally's back stiffen. The two women's heavy breathing could be heard clearly in the room, as if they were in the middle of a fight.

"Lexa."

"Good evening Clarke."

Before the Commander could say another word, Clarke had turned around and suddenly Lexa realised she had been pinned against the wall, a knife under her throat. But she was not afraid. If Clarke had wanted to kill her, she would not have run away for so long. So Lexa refused to advert her eyes and for the first time in a year, she stared right at her, looked into the blue irises of her friend. Anger, hatred, disgust, despair, sadness, loneliness, pain… so many emotions swirling in such a tiny space. Lexa saw Clarke lowering her gaze. Then, like a child being caught, she pulled herself together and pressed the knife more vehemently against her neck.

"How did you find me?"

"I'd have to tell you about a whole year of searching through two oceans. It doesn't matter how. I came here to get you."

"Excuse me?!"

"When I learned about where you were and what you did… How could you think for a moment that I…"

"SHUT UP ! HAVE YOU COME HERE TO JUDGE ME?! YOU?! I SHOULD SLIT YOUR THROAT!"

"And then? Would you feel better? No more nightmares? No more demons? If you wanted to take my life Clarke, setting a simple meeting would have been enough. I would have come running, and at the moment I would have believed we made up and imagined a future together, then, Clarke, you would have slit my throat. To see me suffer, to avenge yourself. Then you would have killed me, Clarke."

"You're right. But it's not too late to put things right, isn't it, Lexa? After all, you waited for the right moment to stab me in the back!

"My people…"

"WHAT ABOUT MINE?! WHAT ABOUT ME LEXA?!

"Is that why you're selling your body? To punish yourself? Instead of looking for a way to battle your demons, you preferred the cowards' way, wallowing in self-pity."

"Keep talking Lexa and I swear I will have you bleed and watch with pleasure."

"… You have to come back Clarke. Not for me or for those who are waiting for you on the ship. But for you. You can't continue destroying yourself like this."

"Really? Tell me Lexa, why should I leave peacefully with the people I care about when I still hear the agonizing cries of the innocents I massacred!"

"You made a choice. To save your people."

"Oh but I know that! Thanks to you! But I understood with time that this justification is not enough for me, it doesn't bring me comfort nor absolution."

"And you think you can find that here?"

"I deserve hell, Lexa. And because you're all ready to forgive me, to put everything behind us, I have no choice but to punish myself."

"… I pity you."

"What?"

"They're here you know. All six of them. Even Jasper. They followed me, for you. For a year I saw them go from a group of empty shells to men and women who wanted to live again. They want to find a reason to live. They're still learning but they're fighting Clarke. They're fighting!"

"They didn't have to kill innocents."

"No but they suffered from the war, as much as you did. Raven is so weak that Bellamy needs to carry her most of the time. He's suffering from insomnia, because of his sleepwalking we had to tie him up so he would not go overboard. Octavia cannot say a word without shouting. And Jasper. And Monty. And Lincoln. They're all fighting Clarke."

"And why should I fight, Lexa?"

"Because… I don't know. Some would tell you to fight so you can live, some would tell you it's about redemption. Clarke, it doesn't matter what your reason is, what matters is that you try. To know that someday you'll laugh again. Fight for the future, Clarke."

"I can't."

"You…"

"I CAN'T! I CAN'T STOP LEAVING IN THE PAST, LEXA! MY PRESENT IS BUT AN ENDLESS SERIES OF DAYS AND NIGHTS! I CAN'T FIND THE WILL TO LIVE AGAIN! BUT IT'S TRUE I'M A COWARD… because the truth is, Lexa, that if I wanted to do the right thing I would take this knife, slit my own throat with it, and…"

"Shut up."

The two young women stood silent for a few minutes. They kept throwing glances at each other without understanding the expression in the eyes of the one facing them. A plea maybe? Clarke started taking a few steps back. She still held the knife in her hand but only because it seemed she could not help herself. She was crying. Silently, without interruption, the tears ran down her face smearing her makeup. In that moment, Lexa found her even more beautiful. The Commander got closer very carefully, like a shepherd facing a frightened lamb, trying to read her. A sight and Lexa stopped. A look and Lexa continued moving. Until, they stood only a few inches apart again. Tenderly, Lexa put her hand on the blonde's waist and after a breath, she put her forehead against Clarke's. Their breathing mingling. Clarke was calmer now, tired in fact. She let go, physically and emotionally, in the brunette's shy embrace.

"Come with me. I swear if you decide to stay in London, or to go back home, or to take a boat to wherever you want to go, I will not stop you. But I beg you, let me get you out of this hell. It will bring you nothing but destruction, Clarke. And I know, I understand the position you're in today. But so many people believe in you, Clarke. You can choose another path. I can help you. Your friends can come with you. And if someday, even after ten years, you find it in yourself to forgive me, then, on that day, Clarke, it will be my turn to make you happy and to offer you peace. Just like you did for me. For an instant, Clarke, this kiss you allowed was my peace. Give me a chance to feel that again. And if that mean a whole life of good deeds, I will send you patients to heal and people to save. Just one chance, Clarke. Tonight."

Later, the man saw, without surprise, the blonde and the brunette girls coming down the stairs. He wanted to ask for some money for the loss of his employee but the second figure had a spear. A very tall and pointed spear. As the brunette helped the blonde putting on a cloak, the man saw a strange thing. The blonde was smiling. It was a ridiculously small smile, a slight smile at the corner of her lips. But it was there. So the man thought, when the three figures left without looking back that truly, he was not that cruel of a man.


End file.
